


clouds on the ground, dancing in the atmosphere

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Asexual Character, Canon Universe, Dancing Lessons, Ensemble Fic, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29168484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: “Oh god, everyone is looking at me. It’s the hair, isn’t it.”---In Rexxentrum, Caduceus gets himself a haircut and a date night.[mild spoilers for episodes 96-97, 110-111, before departure to Eiselcross]
Relationships: Caduceus Clay & Jester Lavorre, Caduceus Clay/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	clouds on the ground, dancing in the atmosphere

**Author's Note:**

> i accept that caduceus' haircut likely won't be acknowledged in canon at this point, but

The mirror on Caduceus’ bathroom wall is a small square of reflective glass, with a little cabinet behind it that stores bandages and ointments, likely added by Caleb as an casual afterthought. A staple in most private restrooms, his perception is high enough for him to notice accidentally dressing himself in an inside-out tunic in the mornings, but he doesn’t seek out looking utterly disheveled on purpose. He rarely uses it, but he appreciates the gesture.

The thing is, now that he has a room of his own, Caduceus keeps looking at himself in the mirror. More than he’s ever looked in a mirror before. He doesn’t consider himself to be vain; he’s not sure if this is vanity. Whatever this is, it’s something he wants to fix. He floats up to the doorway with the archway design embossed into the wood, and raps his knuckles against it.

“I have a problem. It’s nothing serious, but it’s a problem.”

Jester wasn’t sure who to expect when the knocking on her door interrupted her. In the middle of brainstorming grandiose ideas for a mural to put upon her blank canvas wall, of all things! But she certainly wasn’t expecting Caduceus wearing mild confusion, or maybe discomfort on his face. She ushered him inside, discarding the paintbrush she had tucked behind her ear and kept up with him as he paced the same stamped layout their rooms all have, towards the bathroom. Caduceus doesn’t usually have too many problems, and they’ve needed the rest of the Nein to solve his problems in the past. She finds herself passively grasping her symbol of the Traveler as Caduceus pauses, commenting on the scale and ornate nature of her mirror, an oval glass with a gilded frame. 

“So, um...what’s the problem?” 

Caduceus pushes his hair back. The once intricate network of spirals in his undercut is no more, now an indiscernible pattern rich with growth. Not long enough to tangle, but cowlicky and thick, a wisp starting to curl over his ear.

“You can do something about this, right?” Jester frowns sympathetically as he combs through his hair with his fingers.

“I didn’t really notice before you pointed it out, if it makes you feel any better? You don’t seem to be the kind of person who worries about these things.”

“I’m not.” Caduceus frowns. “Which is why it’s weird. But, you’re creative, so I figured I’d come to you for help.”

“Caduceus!” The anxiety in Jester’s chest flutters as she finds herself bouncing on her toes, a singsong lilt to her voice. “Are you asking me for a _haircut_?”

“Yeah. I mean, even if it turns out...unsuited to me, it’ll always grow back.”

“Trust me, Caduceus, you’re in good--” Jester grimaces as she drags the sitting room chair into the bathroom, acknowledging a potential weakness. “I mean, I’m not a professional, but I’ll try my best, okay?”

“I know you will.” Caduceus settles down into the chair with little reticence. Jester arranges the pink wave of his hair into neat sections in front of her. She clasps the pair of shears in her hands, offering Caduceus a wobbly smile in the mirror, and holds her breath as she takes a braid in her hand, the both of them exhaling in tandem as she cuts a few inches off the end.

“Thank you, Jester.” Caduceus sits up straighter to project his reassurance, his legs splayed outward, always too tall to be entirely comfortable in normal-sized chairs. “I probably would’ve asked my sister for a touch-up a few weeks ago, but that was one of the least important problems at the time.”

“At the time, yeah, probably.” Jester hums as she continues to trim inch by inch horizontally, pink hair starting to accumulate atop her socks and around her feet. “But it’s important to feel comfortable in your body, even if it’s just hair! Honestly, I would say hairstyles are one of the most important changes to make.”

“Are you sure you’re not just jealous of a certain wizard who can change her hairstyle easily?”

“Hey, I can try to give you a bad haircut on purpose, if that’s what you want!” Jester huffs. “I can still change what I look like on occasion. And I don’t think she’s _best_ friends with an all-powerful being from the Feywild, either.”

“All-powerful may be a little...eh, forget about it.” Caduceus dismisses his own comment, catching Jester’s pout in the mirror.

“Thank you.” Jester answers politely, though sticking her tongue out at Caduceus, who grins. “I’m going to try cutting up to here now,” She announces, moving her fingers a few inches further up, near Caduceus’ shoulder. He nods in affirmation, and Jester squeezes her eyes shut as she makes the cut.

“Traveler, Guide me,” She squeaks out in prayer, and nearly catches her fingers in the blades as she looks away. A hearty stripe of pink falls to the tile of her bathroom floor, a creamy white flecked with iridescent sparkles, a stark, empty section of Caduceus’ green robes visible amidst the rest of his still long hair.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Jester sniffs, and Caduceus twists around, reaching for her hand. 

“Like I said, it’ll always grow back. I can always Bless you if you really need it.” Jester chokes out a thank you. Caduceus looks at himself in the mirror, really taking a moment to study himself until he finally taps at a point along his jaw, a little ways above his chin. 

“I think you should aim for this length. You can always take my braids out first, to help settle your nerves.” 

Jester nods, and takes a breath, a deep breath. Even though she doesn’t meditate much, it feels like it helps. She takes out the hairbrush she had brought from home, and quietly combs through Caduceus’ hair, starting to remember the things Mama would tell her when she cut her hair at home, in her room, making Jester feel like a princess in front of her boudoir. How she should cut upwards into the hair, rather than across, and combing and cutting turns into a soothing rhythm.

Maybe it’s because she’s been staring at his hair for so long, but she begins to notice that Caduceus’ hair is a lot less frosty than usual. Strands of it are still a paler pink, but other parts are even brighter than when they first met, vibrant like the color of a new tube of paint, or icing atop a freshly baked cupcake.

“Caduceus! You see this too, right? Your hair is so pretty! I mean, it was always pretty, but--it’s so _pink_!”

“I was starting to see that.” Caduceus readjusts his position briefly; maybe he had been avoiding mirrors because he didn’t want to see the pastel in his hair, a literal reminder of his home’s decline. “I think that means my family is back home, maybe that they’re even done with our mission. I know you use the Sending spell pretty liberally, so I figured you would’ve reached out to Reani, or one of my siblings already. It feels kind of silly to even ask.”

“Ummm, I can message her right now! Or your mom, or your dad or--” Caduceus waves his hand at the guilty admission, unbothered by the loose end.

“They’ve been through worse. I’m sure it’s fine. It’s a small thing, but with my hair and all--I’m pretty sure they’re doing okay.”

“...Does it feel weird? Knowing that, you know, they finished everything without you?”

“One could argue they couldn’t have done it without me,” Caduceus’ smile is a hint conspiratorial, if only because it’s true. “But it doesn’t feel weird, if they have. I didn’t ask to be born into a family whose home was cursed. I can’t imagine my life any other way. At the end of the day, it’s about trust, like having faith. Your friend is a lot more visible than the Wildmother, but even when he isn’t, you believe he’s watching, and that he’s going to take care of you. I trust them to finish the job we were all tasked with, not just me.”

“That makes sense. I didn’t really mean to forget, but you didn’t want me to message your family before we met them, so, you know--”

“I, yeah. I could’ve given you a reminder.” Caduceus shrugs. “No harm done.”

His hair dusts the tops of his shoulders, and Jester fluffs it with her hands, rearranging it so it covers his overgrown undercut. She grins and rests her chin upon his shoulder.

"I could give you bangs like mine and we could be twins," She suggests, wiggling her eyebrows.

"I said I’m not that concerned about my looks, but I don't think that's really my style. I know you like to play tricks--"

"But you have to draw the line somewhere," Jester makes an exasperated noise, though her smile is quick to fight its way back to her lips. "You look very handsome, you know? You did before, but this is such a change! And your beard is so grown out, and you smell so nice... are you doing this for someone in particular, Caduceus?" Jester raises her eyebrows along with the tone of excitement in her voice. "I promise I won't tell."

“Uh, myself?" Caduceus answers, trying to not disappoint with his honesty. "Short hair just gets like this, and I’m dealing with the messy phase. But,” He adds after a pause. “Caleb gave us these nice bathtubs, and I’ve had to fight another family member for the bathroom pretty much all my life. It'd be rude if I didn't indulge myself at least once as a thank you."

"So you want to get Caleb's attention."

"Not any more than usual."

"Sure, Caduceus." Jester winks at him in the mirror, then resumes trimming his hair. Caduceus wonders for a brief moment if he should inform her that Fjord's been trying to get her attention--but he figures that'll sort itself out eventually. Jester keeps snipping, and soon enough his hair is framing his face, shorter than ever. He can't help from touching the shorter patch underneath it all, and reminds himself to work on breaking that habit.

Jester puts a little braid back into his hair, praising how handsome he is. He wants to respond that he isn’t, that he’s just Caduceus, but...he feels a lightness, on his head and in his chest, when he looks at his new hair. Maybe he’s been looking in the mirror for so long that he had gotten used to his visage. He looks different to himself, in a way he can’t place. Handsome, cute, those kinds of adjectives never sat quite right with him. But he looks new, refreshed. This change feels good.

“Thank you, Jester,” Caduceus says as he stands, dusting the odd strands of hair from his shirt to join the cloud of pink that has appeared on Jester’s bathroom floor. “I’ll help you clean up, but if there’s anything else I can do to repay you…” He tries to not trail off as he catches himself in the mirror again.

Jester’s arms are propped up on the back of the empty chair, her chin in her hands. Her smile is cheery as always but her expression is softer. She can tell Caduceus is happy, inwardly giggling at his delight, the way it dawns on him slowly as he sweeps up his hair and stuffs it into the waste bin, how his joy is quiet but not hidden, like Yasha’s, both in contrast to the way she gets excited, bubbling up and pouring out of her like a champagne bottle being popped.

He brings the chair back out to the sitting room, to the table with its stack of books, one of them kept open partly in frustration, partly in appreciation of the illustrations on the pages. Caduceus rubs at his neck, stretching after sitting for so long, his fingertips grazing the ceiling.

“I might need to take another bath now; I forgot how haircuts make you so itchy. If there’s anything I can do for you, let me--”

“Actually, I was thinking and, you know, as a visitor’s fee…” Jester purses her lips, an idle finger tracing the curve of her horn. “You could paint a dick on my wall?” 

Caduceus pauses, exhales in acceptance, and heads to the blank wall, plucking a colored pencil that matches his hair from the materials Jester has spread out. 

“Any kind of dick?”

“Yeah, like the ones I draw, something like that.”

“You draw a lot of different kinds of dicks”

“Well, there are lots of different dicks in this world!”

“Can’t argue with that.” 

Caduceus sketches briefly, then puts the pencil back down where he found it, a small, simple, two-circles-and-a-oval left on the wall at his eye level. Jester finds herself mildly offended, honestly expecting a little more effort considering she gave him a whole haircut and all, but it is a dick as requested. He pats her on the shoulder on the way out, teasing her with a smile. 

“See you at dinner.”

***

“Oh god, everyone is looking at me. It’s the hair, isn’t it.”

Dinnertime isn’t planned on a day off, nor do they always eat together. The sign is often a spectral cat who meows and scratches a little at someone’s bedroom door, or weaving between their legs in the library, looking behind itself with a mew, as if encouraging them to follow, before disappearing into one of the holes in the wall. 

Caduceus has entered upon the bulk of them, Beau and Fjord, Yasha and Veth, who greet him upon arrival, and then look at him again in rapid succession, gawking subtly or openly as he piles a plate full of starches and vegetables. He sits down across from them, adjusting his shoulders to the weight of their stares.

“You guys sure know how to make someone feel self-conscious. Is this what other people feel like when they meet us?”

Beau meets his eyes, then looks back down to the table, fingertips on her temples, her mouth open in a silent yell. Yasha clears her throat. 

“I think it’s, you know,” She gestures, raising her hand from her chest to her chin, mimicking the amount of hair he’s cut off. “We’re used to your hair being a certain way. This is, um. Different.”

“Yasha’s right.” Fjord chimes in. “Looks fantastic! It’s just a little bit of a departure.”

“A _little_?” Beau swivels towards them, her voice cracking. She looks back to Caduceus, gesturing with a hand. “I’m sorry, Cad, you look great. I just need a minute to digest this.”

“You sound like you need more than a minute.”

“I’ve digested it,” Veth pipes up from the end of the table. “And, Mister Clay, I am a married woman, but if I may, you look--”

“I’d prefer you didn’t. I know it’s different, but this doesn’t feel entirely warranted--”

“Oh Caduceus, you came downstairs already!” Jester skips in, quick to skim a hand along the ends of his hair. “Don’t you guys like the haircut I gave him? He looks so cute!”

“YOU.” Beau is wild-eyed, accusatory as she jumps up from her seat. Caduceus lifts a placating hand.

“Don’t worry, I asked first.”

“Yeah, I was really nervous when he did,” Jester sputters her lips. “But he looks so good now!”

“I think so, too.” Caduceus acknowledges. “Unless we’re in disagreement about that.”

“No, you look!” Beau makes a sharp noise through her teeth. “You look very good.” She instructs firmly, pointing her finger at Caduceus. “I don’t know if this is some kind of Wildmother thing where you do something extreme with your appearance, like cutting all your hair off, or dropping the accent you were using for months on end--” Fjord makes a noise of protest in the background. “--But I just need time to process this.”

“I could help with that.”

“I am plenty capable of meditating on my own. I have maintained an undercut for years now, and frankly I’m a little offended that you didn't come to me for...” Beau grumbles bits and pieces of words through her teeth, and Fjord takes her by the shoulders, delicately steering her in the opposite direction.

“She’ll get over it. But I have to ask, is it a Wildmother thing?” He asks, leaning in, his voice pitching a notch higher. “Because your family all had kinds of hairstyles, and I started growing this out, and I was essentially converted by you in a roundabout way, so…?” Caduceus makes an incomprehensible noise of a shrug, and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth to deter the conversation further.

“Now, what is all the commotion about,” Caleb drones as he wanders into the crowd of them, finding an empty plate and some silverware. “Pardon my reach, Caduceus.” 

Caduceus leans to the side as Caleb helps himself to whatever meat he has sat himself in front of, and then Caleb pulls back, walking past him. A pause, and then he backpedals, surveying Caduceus with a slight incline of his head, who keeps Caleb in his peripheral, considering how everyone else has reacted. Caleb simply nods and squeezes his shoulder, then walks off, continuing to help himself to other dishes and talking to the cats before settling into a chair at the far end of the table. Caduceus feels Caleb’s eyes drift to him throughout the meal, but it feels unobtrusive, a gentler nudge as the others find some peace with his appearance over the course of dinner. He places his dirtied plate atop the back of a fluffy grey cat, and stands. 

“Does anyone need to decompress over my hair? Beau?”

“I’m great.” Beau barks, a hint of aggravation still in her voice. “You look great.”

“To be fair, I was honestly expecting Jester to react the worst.” 

He raises his hands, helpless to control the reactions of others, and pushes a hand through his hair, catching himself by surprise still when the ends of his hair meet his palm quicker than expected.

***

Caduceus doesn’t really use the library as he’s intended to--not that he’d spent much time in a library before. It’s less for reading, and more of an art gallery, for his fingers to graze the spines of multicolored, multi-textured tomes--and a garden full of the products of dead trees is close to a meditative garden when needed. It’s spacious enough for him to walk around, though he picks up books out of idle curiosity. There are ones that Caleb has pointed out to him, his personal readings on Melora and the pantheon, on necrotic magic and the undead, his memories of what Caduceus has told about his upbringing and the Grove and tea all cobbled together into vaguely biographical tomes. He can flip through the indexes, and parse the paragraphs the best he can, in the middle of doing so when his ears catch the softened noise of footsteps on carpet, and he turns to watch Caleb approach. He hasn’t changed, but his clothes look neater, in some way.

“You’re one of the people I would least expect to find in here.”

“That’s what happens when you’re raised on oral history.” Caduceus closes the book, sliding it back onto the shelf. “And why it makes such a good hiding place.”

“No doubt about it.” Caleb’s gaze wanders for a second, down, and then he lifts his head, looking up to Caduceus. He raises a hand, a hint of a smile curling on his lips. “May I?”

“You...may,” Caduceus responds after a moment, after the intention clicks. He dips his head, and finds his eyelids closing as Caleb winds his fingers delicately through a small section of his hair, his thumb sliding over the flecked glass of Caduceus’ earring as he pulls his hand away. Caduceus’ eyelids flutter open to Caleb with a puffed chest, his shoulders raised, eyes bright as he nearly stumbles over his smile, exhaling:

“I don’t know how to be casual about it, so I won’t. I’d like to take you for a night out in the city, if you’d be so inclined.”

“That’d be nice.” The wheels on a certain track in Caduceus’ mind continue to turn. “Is this a date? These kinds of things tend to fly over my head."

" _Ja_ , that's why I'm trying to fly in your face about it.”

“I appreciate that.” Caduceus smiles. “I’m yours for the evening.”

"Excellent. Right. Let me take care of some business first, and then we'll be good to go." Caleb squats close to the floor, and Frumpkin appears sitting in front in him, his tail swishing.

"There you are, my goodest boy," Caleb coos, scratching Frumpkin behind the ear. "I am going to step out for a little while tonight, so you are large and in charge while I'm away, okay? Keep an eye out for any funny business. You can let our friends fight all they want, it's probably good for them. But I heard Arlen and Claudette got into a tussle the other night. You make sure to report back on anything like that." Frumpkin purrs, pressing his face into Caleb's palm, contentedly tucking his paws under his chest and settling into the salon carpeting. He blinks when Caleb stands back up, who offers his arm to Caduceus.

"Shall we?" Caduceus links his arm in Caleb’s, and they walk out together, floating down to the first floor. Veth whistles from the dinner hall.

“Should we leave the hotel bed unoccupied for you two?”

“Okay, I know what _that’s_ insinuating, and that just feels unnecessary.”

“Agreed.” Caleb rolls his eyes, shutting the door firmly behind him, the frame shimmering faintly before it turns invisible again in the middle of a darkened, modest dwelling. “Not that I’m. Mm. I do not have such intentions in mind.” He announces, his throat thick, grateful that Caduceus cannot see the flush that has risen to the tips of his ears.

“Yet.”

“Oh, Veth is a bad influence.”

“You all are fairly--well. I’d hate to decline you now, or later, not that I’m entirely sure I would. But even if you had such intentions, you’d think there’d be more privacy in the tower.”

“Considering the proclivities of...Beauregard, yes, that was something I accounted for.” Caleb clears his throat. “Anyways,” He urges, guiding Caduceus towards the line of light emanating from the material room’s doorway.

The tavern below is growing rowdy, serving a healthy number of patrons. Outside, even though they are situated in a seedier part of Rexxentrum, reserved with stealth and suspicion, the city is still vast, buzzing and bustling ever so subtly. Caleb lets go of Caduceus a few times as they wander through the streets, into larger crowds and wards lined with bigger buildings, a functional sort of opulence to the capital, loosely taking his wrist or his hand again, explaining the historical significance of certain structures they pass by, genuine intrigue and unfiltered passion in his words, the light in his eyes, the teeth that show in his smile, youth returning to his face when he isn’t fixated on the errors of his past. 

For a moment, Caduceus thinks he’s taking them back to the rustic bar by the school that he had first shown them, and Caleb considers it, too. But he keeps thinking, and walking, and the city grows quieter again, but more polished than the neighborhood they came from. They arrive at a different establishment, a finely-dressed elven woman greeting them at the door. It’s not fancy to the point that Caduceus feels underdressed per se, but it has a simple elegance, the lighting dim but not dark, the woodgrain of the tables and the minimal graffiti marking them, the artwork on the walls, the plush upholstery of the booths. Conversations are muted, but not hushed. Musicians are playing unobtrusively in the corner next to an open square of dance floor, partly occupied by patrons moving to the slow yet steady rhythm. Caleb sits down at a table and converses with a waiter in Zemnian, palming him coins when he returns with an ale and a tea frothed with milk for Caduceus.

“Oh, I can help with paying--”

“No, no,” Caleb waves him off. “I don’t expect we’ll be big spenders tonight. I can afford it.”

“Just barely,” Caduceus comments with a knowing smile, and Caleb shrugs, tipping his stein back in a wordless cheers. Caduceus sips his tea, his upper lip dusted with milk. He licks the foam off, a slip of his tongue.

“Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t stopped smiling since we left the tower.” Caleb’s expression changes a little, lips parted as if caught by an impressive card trick, but he still smiles, his chin in his hand.

“One of my dear friends has graciously agreed to spend an evening with me. I think there is plenty of reason to smile over that.”

“But this is not a normal evening. Or so I’ve been told. Or so I’ve been told to think, at least.” Caduceus’ hand dwarfs his teacup, a fine drink, though probably a little overpriced considering the look of this place. “I like that you’re smiling.”

“Ja,” Caleb sighs, looking around them. “The memories I have of this city have their own blemishes, but I love my home, as you do yours. Being here brings the good parts back. I am not the same person that I once was, in those happiest times, but...I’ve made new memories for the person I am now. And a man Veth flirted with is having drinks with me now, so I am doing quite well.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that one.” Caduceus’ laugh is tinged with apprehension. “It’s a compliment to meet her standards, I’m sure, but there are some things that I’m better off not knowing.”

“And if you meet my standards?” Caleb wonders, his eyebrow arching playfully. “I know you don’t know the answer to that one, not entirely.” The musicians transition into a more upbeat tune, and he climbs off his stool, taking Caduceus’ hand in his. “But I can show you.”

“Oh, no, I’m not very--”

"You are plenty." Caleb reassures him, and Caduceus resists for a fragment of time, though he lets Caleb tug on his arm and lead him to the dance floor.

"There’s too much of me, that’s the problem." Caduceus warns, his voice cordial, leaning over as Caleb guides his hand to his waist. He places his hand on Caduceus' shoulder, then twines their fingers together, their arms bent at the elbows.

"So what if we look a little silly? I can still teach you the steps. You just have to listen to the music. One, two, three, one. Right foot, left foot, right again, turn." Caduceus does his best to follow along, but he stumbles, stepping on Caleb's foot once, and then again with the other, nearly tripping over himself, accidentally bumping another couple with his outstretched arm. His lean turns into more of a slouch, his ears drooping down, though Caleb can't help but grin at their situation, steering Caduceus to the fringes of the dancing circle, not letting go of him.

"I thought you were good at this."

"Just because I know the dance doesn't mean I always dance it well. But I am still having fun." 

“That makes one of us.” Caduceus groans, and Caleb protests at his pity.

“Hey. Hey. You walk around all parts of this continent for months on end, a pink and green alarm wail of a man, and now you choose to care about what others think of you?”

“Just because I don’t care doesn’t mean I can’t feel embarrassed.”

“So, what are you going to do? Go sulk and leave me dancing on my own? I could summon an Unseen Servant, dance with them. I would look a fool to take the spotlight off of you.”

“...I wouldn’t leave you,” Caduceus reasons after a moment, his posture straightening. “I’d risk getting jealous if that was your reaction.” He hopes that’s a clever quip, and judging by the way Caleb pauses, forgetting to dance for a second, it seems to be a success.

“If it’s any consolation, no one is really looking at you. No one is looking at us. Everyone is too busy thinking about themselves to bother worrying about you. Except for that one woman who you nearly elbowed in the jaw,” Caleb teases. “She’s probably keeping an eye out.”

“That’s not true. Well,” Caduceus casts a look around. “Oh yeah, she’s definitely glaring at me. But that’s not what I meant.” He looks back to Caleb. “ _You’re_ looking at me.”

“And you’re looking at me. It must be so easy with all that hair you’ve cut off. Imagine how much worse dancers we would be if your hair was getting in your eyes, or mine…” Caleb trials off, his voice going soft. “Well, you’ve seen all the skeletons in my closet. You’ve smelt their rot. I have nothing left to hide.”

“You’re...like an old book, Caleb.” Caduceus thinks aloud, his dancing relaxing as he focuses on what words to choose. “Your pages need to be treated with care, and some of them may stick together, hiding the next. You don’t owe us your memories, good or bad. But it is refreshing to see you be almost shamelessly happy, nine times out of ten. Or, three times out of four. However many times we’ve visited so far.” 

Caleb mouths a word to himself, at odds with Caduceus’ comment in some way, but not wholly bothered to dwell on it visibly. The music slows, continuing softly, and Caduceus pivots.

“This sounds like a different dance. You’ll have to teach me the steps again.”

“I can cheat a little on this one.” Caleb mutters as his finger brushes the edge of a raven’s feather in his coat pocket, and he hovers into the air, face to face with Caduceus. He loops his arms around his neck, and Caduceus tentatively places his hands on his waist, securing him close.

“Is it still considered dancing if your feet aren’t touching the ground?”

“Oh, semantics. This one isn’t much of a dance at all. You just shuffle around a little bit, back and forth--yes, just like that. Like you’re wandering around in a little circle. Perfect.” Caleb rests his forehead against Caduceus’, ginger hair mingling with pink, and Caduceus turns in a slow circle as told, listening to the melody.

“Really?” He asks in Caleb’s ear, unable to keep himself from a little laugh. “All because of a haircut?”

“It wasn’t just the haircut,” Caleb breathes a laugh back, the tip of his nose against the line of Caduceus’ cheekbone. “The haircut just helped me remember something. A feeling. A desire.” He swallows, his heart beating against Caduceus’ chest. “If you're comfortable with this.”

“I am.” Caduceus’ chest feels both tight and if it’s about to burst, a warm, gooey sensation. He focuses on the weight of Caleb in his arms, solid, but not heavy. Caleb presses his lips to Caduceus’ cheek, scruff scratching lightly at the skin above his beard. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> lots of performance checks in this fic for jester trying to give caduceus a nice haircut, caduceus attempting to dance, etc! Bless helped- but we had a rough time early on
> 
> interested in a clayleb tilt on caduceus having no beard in his level 10 design? i've got [that](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884840/chapters/57419548) for you as well!


End file.
